


Magician's Mask

by Okami_g



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, F/F, Former Human Morgana, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Morgana centric, Ren is a Good Friend, Series of Vignettes, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 12:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14332125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okami_g/pseuds/Okami_g
Summary: "I am NOT a cat! Say that again and I'll make you regret it!"Igor was not above using children to help win his game, his manipulations at Tatsumi Port Island proved that. So when he needed a guide to help the Phantom Thieves, and a place to hide Hope from the incoming Ruin, he used a child.Morgana was unique, a being gifted in Metaverse Navigation and well versed in the inner workings of Phantom Thievery. However, as the Phantom Thieves progress closer to changing society, the team can't help but see Morgana as something... more human. Something Morgana both loves and despises for reasons he cannot understand.





	Magician's Mask

Ruin, it seemed, was upon them once more. Seeping its way into the minds and hearts of the prisoners, reinforcing their chains in an unending cycle. And as Ruin progressed, Hope dwindled.

How curious, the impish man thought to himself, that a force as powerful as Hope, which once filled the cracks in every Heart, now sat comfortably in his hand. Igor, Master of the Velvet Room, contemplated this as he casually passed the glowing Hope from one gloved hand to the other. He contemplated this as Ruin literally pounded on the door of the Velvet Room, black tendrils threatening to end their game forever.

He seemed to be the only occupant ignoring the looming threat, as Lavenza glanced nervously at the door with every creak and groan. While the doer was not truly metal and glass, it still creaked and groaned under the weight of Ruin, like they could collapse at any moment. But she remained dutifully at her Master's side, face betraying no fear; she knew Igor disliked seeing his attendants be too emotional. Lavenza turned to her Master and asked, "Shall we make ready for our new guest?"

Igor made only the slightest of nods, and the Room reacted to his wishes. The cramped interior of the limousine rushed outwards, a small tarot reading table becoming a simple but lavish desk. Rich leather seats became simple cots, metal clanged as iron bars crashed down around them. The velvet void around them did not change, though now the room had no windows to see it. He took a quick glance at his new surroundings, but his face betrayed no emotion behind his devilish grin. Instead it was Lavenza who stated the obvious; "A prison here and a prison outside... this is truly an unjust game. His chances of winning...."

She trailed off as Igor put up a finger to silence her. "Indeed, how interesting. I do not think my Trickster will succeed." He chuckled to himself, but stopped midway through, as if struck by realization. "At least, not alone." He set the glowing ball of light on his new warden's desk, Hope sitting still, ready to be used. "Lavenza, prepare for a fusion." He gestured to the newly formed guillotines which stood proudly in one corner of the prison. "And make sure you're presentable...

"We're going to have an early guest."

* * *

 

Children's minds were flexible, and up until a certain age they all held the potential of the Wild Card. Lavenza bitterly remembered another time Igor had used a child for his work, how her Master had locked them into the Fool arcana to contain the aspect of Death. Lavenza tried very hard not to think of the child's current fate; tried not to open her mind to the many possible futures they could have lived, had they not became Igor's plaything.

The child Igor called out to was young, even by human standards. Igor had explained to his assistant that it was adulthood which brought the Ruin, so he required someone nowhere near their adulthood. Igor kept his watchful eye on millions of potential Wild Cards, but this particular child had begun to show signs of becoming of the Magician arcana. Signs of forming the mask of immaturity and self-confidence as the shade of the Spanish swashbuckler _de la Vega_ clung to his heart.

That is to say, signs of becoming useless to Igor.

Luring the child was easy enough, opening his eyes so he could see the glowing blue door floating suspended in reality. The very idea of the Velvet Room was enough to snare even the least curious of minds. The child had looked around, tried in vain to get his mother's attention, and instead approached the open door. He passed the threshold easily enough, the door shutting behind him, still invisible to all. A child had vanished from the street, another faceless statistic.

Some part of Lavenza that was human and not simply the Velvet Room Attendant was disgusted by the display. Disgusted by how the whole scenario reeled of Igor's manipulations, how the mother's attention was enraptured by some distant nothing, the faint aura of blue glowing in her eyes.

* * *

 

"Welcome, to the Velvet Room," the impish man greeted as the child passed the threshold, door vanishing behind him.

The young boy looked around, eyes still alight with childlike wonder, yet cut with equal parts trepidation, as of the room itself was ready to attack. "What… is this place," he wondered aloud. It was odd, the way the Guests always seemed to speak more to themselves than to Igor. Lavenza had long since decided that not all of the humans could enter the Velvet Room, that some small piece of consciousness missing made the place feel like a dream; an assumption that was not entirely correct or incorrect.

“This place exists between dreams and reality, mind and matter." Igor's tone was robotic, as though he would have said the words regardless of the boy's question. Yet his unblinking, bloodshot eyes were trained solely on the young Magician.

"It is a magical place," Lavenza cut in to explain, her role in the room to relay information to guests in the most effective way possible. This child required simple terms, so she spoke as broadly as she could, her voice soft and reassuring. "This is Igor, the Master of this place, and he has chosen you for a very important task." She bowed respectfully to the young guest, in her head preparing for Igor's next scripted line: _This is a place only those bound by a contract may enter._ With the nearly omnipotent knowledge at his disposal, Igor was privy to many secrets: life and death, happiness and eternity. Even one of those secrets could shatter the mind of a mere human; Lavenza herself could only stand so much before the words would claw at her psyche. After an incident with a Wild Card many centuries past, Igor devised a script for himself and his attendants to prevent another incident, another mind shattered by eldritch truth.

Igor did not abide his script.

He told the child everything; he told the child of Treasure and Palaces, Subways and Shadows, Hope and Ruin. The child could only stare in dawning horror as Igor explained the cosmic truth of the universe, told him his every possible life decision in the span of seconds. He showed him the very essence of the human heart, and revealed the secrets of the Arcana. When finally Igor finished, the boy could do little more than stare off in horror of some distant concept. The spark of immaturity was gone as the waking fear of a dozen lifetimes overtook the Magician’s dull eyes. 

Grinning with obvious satisfaction, Igor held Hope out to Lavenza and motioned dismissively to the boy. “Deal with the Magician,” were his only instructions.

Lavenza could remember no greater relief in her life than when she was able to cover the child in a velvet blue sheet. It wouldn’t spare herself the guilt of what came next, though. And she could remember no greater sorrow that she did not even learn the child’s name, before….

* * *

 

Morgana ducked behind a conspicuous barrel as a heavily-armored knight turns his gaze, just missing the black blur as the cat went out of sight. His little heart pounded quickly as he felt the knight’s red gaze seem to look through his cover, staring right into his soul, before just as quickly he felt the gaze leave him. With a tiny sigh of relief, he scampered into an empty cell at the end of the corridor, out of sight and way from any of the Shadow’s patrol routes.

A thought occurred to Morgana as he let Zorro bathe his small scratches with his healing magics; why did he call the knights Shadows? Realistically, he should have thought of the roaming suits of armor as, “knights,” but his instincts said, “Shadows.” Maybe his instincts knew that beneath the armor, they didn’t look like knights; instead they took the form of demons and ghosts and fairies, but never knights. Thinking a little harder, Morgana couldn’t quite figure out why he knew many of the terms he did. Of course, he couldn’t really think of anything to call the massive castle he lurked through that fit better than a Palace (ruler, cognition, heart). And anyone could figure out that every Palace must hold some Treasure (seed, evil, ego) at its center. Still, he had no reason to know about things like the Metaverse, Mementos, Personas…

As Morgana mused on his memories and flexed his newly-healed tail, the atmosphere around him became heavy and oppressive, a red haze surrounded him as he heard the strange _splash splash splash_ of several new Shadows forming nearby. A security increase?! Morgana knew he wasn’t seen, so he quickly surmised that someone else must have tripped some alarms, but who else could be here? Morgana was the only Phantom Thief in the castle (what was a Phantom Thief?) that he knew of, were there others here with the potential?

He didn’t have time to think on it further, as a loud _splash_ came from directly outside his cell, a knight Shadow clad in gold standing menacingly just outside the cell, a raging red aura surrounding him, crimson eyes piercing Morgana’s very being. The cat let out a small yowl as he scrambled to his feet, pulling his scimitar out as Zorro hovered behind him, flourishing his rapier in defense of his master. Morgana was ready for the fight of his-

The knight, thoroughly unimpressed with the display before him, didn’t give the feline a chance to react before slamming the heavy iron cell door solidly shut, trapping Morgana in the cell he once sought refuge in. As the cat’s face fell and Zorro disappeared, the golden Shadow let out a hauntingly deep laugh before beginning to walk away from the trapped cat. “Another intruder? King Kamoshida will be most pleased by your capture, as simple as it was.” He gave no chance for a response before walking away, crossing the drawbridge before raising it back up behind him.

Morgana scrambled to the door, pushing and pulling with all his tiny might, but the iron door wouldn’t budge in the slightest. He tried to hack at it with his scimitar, but damaged his sword more than the door, and even a _garu_ spell did nothing. He knew he could pick the lock, but he didn’t have any silk or tin on him to make the pick, how could he be so underprepared? He didn’t know how long he paced his tiny cell, looking for any nook or cranny he could squeeze out of, or any materials he could scavenge into a lockpick. Any tiny scrap of freedom, any hope he could cling to.

_“...So we ain’t the only ones who got captured!”_

Morgana perked his ears up at a new voice, another person’s voice, without that strange echo that Shadow’s had. Was someone else out there, someone who could help him?

_“Dammit, the bridge is up! Ain’t there some way to lower it!?”_

Splashing footsteps, two pairs, getting closer and closer to his cell, no clanging of heavy armor. His ticket to freedom, to the Treasure, to Mementos? He saw his saviors, a pair of older boys in school uniforms, one with bleached blonde hair, the other with a head of frizzy black hair and glasses. They looked about the same age as the prisoners here, but they were real, right? They would help him… right?

“Another dead end...? Dammit, how the hell are we supposed to get outta here!?”

Instinct overcame trepidation as Morgana found himself calling out to them, unknowingly beginning a chain of events that would change both his life and the world’s. “...Hey, you there. Blondie! Frizzy Hair! Look over here!”

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first chapter, and I'm generally happy with how it ended up reading. I tried to write the Velvet Room section in a particular way, trying to get across my personal idea of how the Velvet Room and Igor feel to me (read: strange and scary and hazardous to human life). Now that the story is more firmly in reality (or as firmly in reality as Persona can be), it should read a bit more smoothly from here on out. Length of these chapters should increase too, now that I have more characters to play around with. 
> 
> Also, this story will generally be a series of vignettes, not retreading the story in its entirety, but more taking place chronologically at different points in the story, all with Morgana and his humanity as the primary focus. Despite how people like to joke about him, I think Morgana is a super fun character and wanted to delve more into his personality and my personal headcanon, so if this interests you stick around! Planning to update this story on a biweekly basis.


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